


Painful Kind of Hope

by Darkshadow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M, Memories, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:20:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9057262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkshadow/pseuds/Darkshadow
Summary: I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we’re imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.    -Rae Carson





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Please leave a comment, and I appreciate feedback.

   I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we’re imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.  
    -Rae Carson

 

Denmark stumbles through the snow while humming the tune to a song he forgot the name of a long time ago. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes another swig. The alcohol warming his body, making the chill of the winter night feel nonexistent as white flakes melt onto his skin. Goosebumps form along his arms, and the glass bottle feels like ice in his hand. Each sip grows harder to swallow, after all when one drinks to forget they only end up feeling the hollowing pain of loneliness.

    Somewhere in the back of his mind Denmark knows this is a bad idea, but he can’t find it in himself to stop. Every added step assures him of how right this is. Reminds him of how much he misses the warmth of another hand linked with his, or the comfortable silence that would form as the two would sit together. The buzz of alcohol and the desperation drive him to continue down the familiar path that's covered in untouched snow which is quickly ruined by his dragging feet.

    Denmark has trouble remembering how long it took him to see the brown of the small log cabin which is nestled deep within the forest. He recalls it once having lush green leaves which would block out the rays of sun. But now all those trees are dead, the leaves having fallen off a couple months earlier. The yellows and reds of fall must have been beautiful. For all he knows it could have been fifteen minutes, or maybe even an hour, that he has been walking through the cold. Somewhere along the way his humming turned to singing, and the beer in his bottle disappeared.

    His heart beat quickens as he makes his way up the steps, being careful not to fall so he won’t hurt himself. Making his way to the door Denmark knocks three times, relishing in the way the rough wood scrapes his knuckles, reminding him of earlier days. No one opens the door so he continues to knock. Leaning against it he calls out to Norway, begging him to come out. It's been so long and he wants to see him again. The door swings open and Denmark struggles not to fall as he enters the house. Immediately heat warm his skin, and he smells the nostalgic scent of pine coming from the walls of the cabin. Looking to his side Denmark notices deep blue eyes glaring at him. It's relieving to see them again, the beautiful color bringing up memories of the past that he would never dare to forget. 

    “What are you doing here?” Norway demands more than asks.

    “Just visiting.” Denmark struggles to say, the beer clouding his mind and flushing his cheeks.

    “No one “justs visits” drunk at two am.” Even in Denmark's confused state there is no way he can miss the angre in the Norwegian’s voice.

    “Please, don’t be like that.” Denmark whispers clumsily reaching out for Norway's hand. His smooth skin and body heat feels so good. Denmark wishes he can hold Norway in his arms forever, just the two of them and no one else.

    “Go home.” Norway says, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

    “No, I want you to lay with me. Just for a little while.” Denmark gently tugs Norway towards the couch, wanting to stay with him. Letting out a loud sigh the latter allows himself to be dragged by Denmark. The Dane waits for Norway to get on the couch before laying with him. He knows the norwegian is agreeing more out of pity than anything else. But as his head rests on Norway's chest he feels more content than he has in a while.  Loving the feeling of having those delicate fingers run through his messy hair.

    “Hey Nor, do you remember that time I fell from that tree.”

    “There are too many times for me to remember.”

    “You know which one I’m talking about. The time when we were kids and I broke my arm. I was screaming and you were so worried, I swear you thought I was going to die.”

    “Why are you bringing this up now?” Norway asks, obviously not amused.

    “You used to love me back then.” Denmark can't stand to look into Norway's eyes when he doesn’t have the sweet taste of alcohol warming his blood. The spark that used to be there when they would look at each other is gone, and it has been for a long time. The spark that he used to see in Norway's eyes on nights like these when they would hold each other by the fire, exchanging silent kisses as the night passed. The spark, that to this day is still shining brightly in Denmark's eyes, can no longer be found in Norway’s. And for every day that the spark has disappeared from the Norwegian Denmark has regretted what he’s done.

    But at this moment, when the Dane’s mind is clouded with the bitter taste of alcohol and he feels Norway’s hands combing through his hair, Denmark can pretend that things are how they used to be. That Norway still loves him.


End file.
